


electric eye in the sky

by Plenicelune



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artificial Intelligence, Canon-Typical Violence, Hacking, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Nines is an AI, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Rating May Change, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27723830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plenicelune/pseuds/Plenicelune
Summary: The stakes were sky high. How many detectives in Detroit city have been personally approached by an Assistant Director of the FBI?Barely out of the hospital, Gavin was given the opportunity of a lifetime: to infiltrate an underground organization. He is partnered with 9-0-0, a state-of-the-art, advanced AI built for surveillance and cyber activity. Away from the bubble he'd made for himself and alone with 9-0-0, it's only a matter of time before Gavin starts questioning the life he'd chosen.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Reed900 Reverse Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chromaberrant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromaberrant/gifts).



> This is my official entry for the Reed900 Reverse Big Bang 2020! I was given the wonderful opportunity to render [chromaberrant's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromaberrant) awesome plot idea, and here is my interpretation of it. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you all have a lot of fun reading this too.
> 
> Weekly updates on Thursdays (hopefully ;w;)
> 
> Special thanks to my friends who keep indulging and supporting me throughout my 2 year old obsession!

[](https://twitter.com/chromaberrant/status/1332153076225073154?s=20)

The long line of the white corridor was broken by the occasional person moving about listlessly. The lights were sharp and nothing was out of place, but the entire floor still looked depressing as hell. Throughout the hallway, there were only two windows, located at the walls of both ends. The trees outside were swaying with the wind, but none of the wind ever ended up inside, barred by the closed windows.

The more Gavin thought of the outdoor breeze, the more he became aware of the stuffy air inside the establishment. The air inside smelled of fake citrus, too sweet and too strong, feeling like the air was trying to hide something. He could literally taste the artificial scent everywhere. By now, the stench had stuck to the roof of his mouth and the back of his throat, fused with all clothes he had worn during his stay, and burrowed deep into his skin.

Gavin had always hated hospitals.

A housekeeping cart was parked beside the door to his room. The staff patiently waited for him to clear out, LED a steady blue.

“Is there anything you might need assistance with, Mr. Reed?” asked the staff.

Gavin shot the android a look, shouldered his duffel bag, and didn’t bother answering.

Ignoring the vacant elevator, Gavin headed for the stairs. There was no need to keep boxing himself in as much as he had experienced in the past two weeks. It was hell. After the surgery, there were days when Gavin couldn’t even roll around too much in bed, hooked up to too many wires. 

Nothing pissed Gavin off more than limited movement and having to ask for permission to do the slightest of things. It was like his fucking childhood all over again. Even with his extreme pigheadedness, he couldn’t make it to the toilet without assistance. Tina wasn’t always around to assist him, only the hospital staff was available to help, with their vacant stares and patronizing tones and LEDs shifting between colors. It was humiliating.

But now, Gavin got his body back. Weakened, though whole. He savored the protest in his knees, the tingle in his calves, and his blood slowly warming up inside him from the exertion of going down the stairs. Every step felt like a small victory.

The greater victory was leaving the hospital doors.

The night was cool and quiet. The usual bystanders have long gone home. The outside breeze was a welcome sensation against Gavin's skin. He inhaled deep and tasted the freshness of the river, letting the wind wash over and work up a shiver out of him. Every breath of fresh air made his hands twitch in muscle memory, his fingers trying to hold a ghost of a cigarette stick. Tina made sure to clear out his duffel bag and hoodies free of cigarettes before bringing them into his room. Fucking Tina.

He felt his phone vibrate inside his pocket.  _ Speaking of _ .

**[Tina] 19:13:** guess whose ugly ass is strutting around the precinct today

**[Tina] 19:13:** it’s p3rk/ins lmao

**[Tina] 19:49:** gav cap told me not to pick you up??? idk what's going on

**[Tina] 20:28:** theyre out of their goddamn minds, you just got released

**[Tina] 20:55 (unread):** dont. gav please.

Interesting. Gavin released a long sigh of relief and winced as he felt a stitch on his upper torso spring up. God, his body felt like an aged elastic band, unused and brittle, coming apart at the slightest pressure.

The minor surgery was bad enough, but the nicotine withdrawal that had overtaken his body the entire time was the cherry on top of his fantastic year. The nearest convenience store was a few blocks away and Gavin didn't have the energy to walk that far. The night was growing late and heavy. Maybe he could pay the cleaners to sneak him a confiscated pack or two. Fuck what the doctors said. Just for tonight.

A sleek black Range Rover entered the driveway, heavy wheels crunching the concrete, before coming to a full stop in front of Gavin. The positioning of the parking was deliberate; it was after him. Gavin stood his ground, didn’t bother moving an inch. For a brief moment, Gavin saw himself on the heavily tinted window before it slowly rolled down. The gaunt image stared back at him, keeping its gaze steady and stubborn until there was no longer any surface left to reflect, leaving Gavin to stare at a gaping darkness.

Belatedly, he noted how it was the first time he saw his reflection in a long while. A face surfaced out of the shadows.

“Detective Gavin Reed. You look none the worse for the wear. How long have you been standing here?”

“Special Agent Perkins,” Gavin greeted. “Not long at all. Just got out. I’m waiting for someone."

“Seems like we were right on time. I hate to break up plans, but I have to borrow you for a bit. We already asked Miss Chen, and she doesn’t mind.”

“Oh.”

“You're not really surprised to see me, are you?”

"Always a pleasure to see your face. You have a cig?"

Perkins snorted and opened the passenger door. “Get in, Detective.”

It took an embarrassing amount of time for Gavin to get seated comfortably, his body protesting at the new angles it was subjected to inside the cramped space and him awkwardly arranging his duffel bag at his feet. It was a different kind of cold inside the car. As much as he'd like to preserve his unbothered tough guy act, Gavin knew he was severely out of his comfort zone. He’s by himself, miles away from the precinct, no Fowler or Anderson to make sure things were in their definition of order. He submerged himself in uncharted waters the moment the lock clicked and the car left the driveway.

Perkins wasn’t the only person with Gavin on the backseat. Gavin knew a vehicle this fancy would always carry someone very important, but Perkins didn’t fit the bill. Probably someone else who’s currently his senior or someone from the higher rungs of the hierarchy. The third person confirmed Gavin's suspicions.

There's a different aura that exuded from the third passenger, one that seized attention and nothing short of anyone's respect. The grey hair was neatly arranged and gave away the decades of experience and self-command. Clean-cut and well-poised, the person regarded Gavin with a slight smile on his face and a tip of his head. Gavin swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"Detective Gavin Reed, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Tudor Rieger, Assistant Director of the Counterterrorism Division of the FBI," Perkins said.

"Good evening, Mr. Rieger," Gavin said, extending his hand for a shake. Suddenly, his mouth ran dry. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you too, Detective Reed," Tudor said. His voice was well-modulated in a way that dictated years of consultancies and negotiations. "I am glad we did not keep you waiting. Do you know why we are here, Detective?"

"I have an idea, but I could be assuming, sir."

Gavin found it difficult to look at Tudor in the eye, but felt it too disrespecting not to. Tudor’s eyes were sharp enough to pierce right through Gavin, and he held such an unwavering gaze that commanded no bullshit.

"I am welcome to assumptions,” Tudor said, smiling. “Please do tell."

"No one outside of my precinct has any reason to approach me, unless it's for stakeouts or undercover missions. So I'm betting on that."

"And you are correct," Tudor said, looking pleased. "I have heard great things about you, Detective Gavin Reed. You have the records to back you up. Other police districts point you as one of the most dependable people when it comes to undercover recons and stakeouts. It is very admirable."

The compliment came out of nowhere, taking Gavin by surprise. He rarely received praises that were not backhanded or outside of Fowler’s lambasting sessions, and now he’s at the receiving end of it, void of castigations, from a high-ranking FBI agent. It was disorienting.

“You should see my disciplinary folder, sir,” Gavin said, wincing at his own self-deprecation in front of an assistant director. “But I am just trying to do my job, sir.”

"Your passion for your work truly shows. Speaking of disciplinary actions, I have been told by Captain Fowler that you were suspended without pay for a month, but did not go into full detail," Tudor said, disappointingly, "I would like to know more about it, if you are willing to share.”

“I’d like to know, too,” Perkins added, but there was a knowing look on his face.

“I assaulted a fellow officer in the evidence room,” Gavin said. He tried to keep his voice even, but still a drop of venom escaped. “Even though I got my ass handed to me, I was the one who instigated it. That’s what the report said, sir.”

“The fellow officer, was it a person or an android?” Tudor asked.

Another reply that caught Gavin off guard. “Does it matter, sir?” he asked.

Tudor caught Gavin's eye, incisive. “You know it does, Detective Reed.”

“An android, sir," Gavin sputtered out. "An RK800 unit.”

“I see. The investigative assistant prototype. It’s on its way to be deprecated, so I don’t understand Captain Fowler's decision. I find it almost comical, really. Something inconsequential should not have this grave a punishment. He must have given in to public demand and pressure. What a shame."

“Deprecated? What do you mean, sir? What I heard is that Connor got instated as Hank--as Lieutenant Anderson’s partner instead.”

Before Gavin could stop himself, he glanced at Perkins. Any mark left by Hank's knuckles have been healed already. Perkins didn't miss Gavin's gaze and scowled. He ran a hand through the ghost of the injuries, fingers feeling the shape of his nose as if looking for anything amiss.

“The RK800 is merely a prototype. CyberLife only created enough units meant for back-up in case it became out of commission during its mission,” Tudor said. He didn’t miss their exchange of glances.

“Since the DPD have chosen to cement the RK800’s position in its ranks,” Perkins added, “CyberLife can’t deactivate or do anything to it anymore. The RK800 is now a government property.”

“The RK800 series was released not with the intention to get its purpose perfect the first time, but to  _ perfect  _ its code through its trials and errors,” Tudor said, like he was reciting from a file.

_ Alpha testing _ , Gavin thought.

“That RK800 failed its mission, but that does not matter anymore. CyberLife could still make use of its data to continue the next phase of the development.”

It was a lot of information loaded in one sitting. Gavin sat back to absorb it all. His head throbbed faintly. Does Fowler know about Connor’s limited role and his fated deactivation? If Fowler knew all along, then did it mean that he really threw Gavin under the bus so he could save some well-constructed piece of plastic? Something bubbled up inside Gavin, something ugly rearing its head.

“If only CyberLife didn't have… restrictions on its development, the prototype would have been hardly necessary, honestly, such a waste of resources,” Tudor lamented, more to himself. “But that has already been dealt with for the next series. Moving on... have you seen the news lately, Detective Reed? I would like to hear what you know, as well as your thoughts, please.”

Tina wouldn't let him watch the news, switching channels every time a newsbreak happens, but that in itself was already telling enough for Gavin. Gavin was sure he'd suffer another concussion on top of his current one if Tina would so much as hear him gloat about the bloodbath of blue.

“I don’t know the specifics, sir,” said Gavin although he actually knew, “but whatever the FBI did, it’s working really well.”

“And your thoughts? Do not worry, we are not doing an interrogation, so we are off the record,” Tudor prodded. He chuckled and Perkins followed suit.

If someone asked him this in the precinct, Gavin knew it was a setup for another disciplinary action against him. For all those fuckers pointing fingers at him for being a douchebag bully, they were following his footsteps down to a T. But he wasn't at the precinct now, he's inside a range rover with a special agent and an assistant director. He did not know where he was being taken or where things were going with their conversations.

Besides, it's the FBI who led the culling of the androids. No mercy and no relief. If sympathy for androids could occupy a space, it wouldn’t be found inside here.

“Well?” Perkins asked.

“I think it’s so satisfying to see the FBI put those socket fuckers back in line,” Gavin said.

He waited for an affronted gasp or a sharp reprimand but--

Gavin earned another bout of laughter instead. He joined in this time, feeling the good kind of pangs from moving his torso quickly too much, but he wanted to savour this good laugh. This is the first time in two weeks that he’s with other people who shared the same sentiments he had regarding androids. Tina would sometimes entertain his regular bitching, but after that demonstration made by Markus, the android Jesus, she had been downright intolerant. She would've clocked him right now.

" _ Socket fuckers _ ," Perkins laughed, "good one."

“Aren’t you the right man for the mission, Detective Reed,” Tudor said. He sounded extremely relieved. “Moving on—apologies for the distractions—but let us return to you and the mission we are proposing. You have the option to decline, of course, but between all of us here, the FBI is getting quite desperate for more warm bodies on the field and we hope it is you. Special Agent Perkins, if you will, please.”

Perkins handed him a tablet. “Have you heard of the underground anarchist organization called The Emancipated Eagle? They’ve been among the FBI’s watchlist for a decade now. The past few years, they’ve been lying low, but just recently our intel has observed that the org has been expanding, even to the point of organizing androids to join their ranks,” Perkins stated.

Gavin skimmed through the information laid out in the tablet. The latest activity has been the looting of the main junkyard where decommissioned androids were thrown, along with other tech devices, which showed signs of both android and human activity behind it. The vandals left behind were an assortment of perfect and imperfect penmanships, calling for both android and human rights. 

It was merely the tip of the iceberg. Recent reports showed a change in trend of the activities of the android revolution, which similarly coincide with the usual methods done by the organization, years before. Looting became more violent, vandalism and destruction of property has grown worse, and the growing presence of riots became rampant as opposed to peaceful protests. What was supposed to be peaceful protests and demonstrations from androids turned bloody.

"The anarchists are piggy-backing off the android rev," Gavin said.

"They are. Opportunists," Tudor said, nodding in satisfaction at Gavin’s quick pickup. "I am ashamed to say my division is struggling to crack them down, even when I can say with utmost confidence that we are trying our very best. They’re covered in all aspects, both on-ground and in virtual. We need more information about them and their future activities, but without agents from the inside, we cannot achieve that."

"You want me to infiltrate the org," Gavin asked, in disbelief. "But I am suspended right now."

"That's already taken care of," Perkins interjected, looking smug. His hand found its way to his face again. "Let's just say that the DPD owes a few favors to the FBI, after a high-ranking official assaulted an agent inside its premises. Captain Fowler can't afford to turn down our negotiation or else he'll get slapped with an investigation that might sack the lieutenant. Possibly decommission the RK800 as well."

"Your supposed suspension is also a good alibi for you, Detective Reed. Your precinct has the highest number of deviated police androids that chose to remain in their positions," Tudor added thoughtfully. “Unless we railroad precautions, the preferred attitude would be to distrust all deviated androids as they could have well been recruited. We never know if they're affiliated with the org.”

"With all due respect, Mr. Rieger, sir—I am flattered and all that you think I'm a good candidate for espionage—but you literally picked me up from the hospital. I'm still recovering, I'm not fit to do anything."

Tudor didn’t reply. Instead, he took his time inspecting Gavin, as if he was laid out in a petri dish for examination. Tudor looked deep in thought.

“Do you know anything about how the city works, Detective?” Tudor finally asked.

Tudor was too vague with whatever he was trying to get across. It made Gavin feel like he's participating in a mind game of sorts. It made his skin crawl and made his mind run a mile a minute, restless. He didn’t like how it made him paranoid, like he had to be on his tiptoes to impress and prove his worthiness. He badly wanted a cigarette, doctor’s orders be damned.

“Most people today would attribute androids for running the city,” Tudor said without waiting for Gavin’s reply. “In a way, that is half of the truth. Androids manage the surface of the city. But who manages behind the scenes? Every ATM transaction, drone activity, mass public transportation system, surveillance cameras, traffic lights and flows?” 

Past the slight throb in his head, Gavin could understand what Tudor was hinting at. If automaton has already been brought on legs and prettified with human faces and behaviors, who knew what could be going on inside large-scale systems and networks? 

“Do you think,” Tudor continued, “that people are still behind the inner workings of Detroit city, dubbed as the heart of android development and creation in the entire continent?”

“No,” Gavin replied.

Back in 2024, when the commercial production of androids started, Gavin remembered how surreal it felt. It was one thing to consume science fiction and another thing to live in it. Every new technological breakthrough, every new groundbreaking invention, his first reaction was always,  _ just like in the stories _ . But each story was inspired by reality, each fictional world built upon the skeleton of the real world. Yet why was it so difficult to accept the current reality he’s living in? 

“No, of course not,” Tudor nodded. “The Detroit central operating system, DcOs for short, also created by CyberLife, is a complex artificial intelligence that is connected to all of the public electronic systems and servers of the city. Human error and failure has been removed from the picture, thereby improving the city’s performance and management.”

Gavin was aware of the inevitability of automation in some aspects of the city infrastructure management that made them faster and more efficient. He saw it coming, the eventual takeover of technology controlling the entire city unsupervised with minor guidance and maintenance by humans, yet why was he still surprised?

There were conspiracy theories surrounding the mass employee layoffs of both government and private infrastructures then. One of those theories was that the city was taken over by a large-scale artificial intelligence, and that there wasn’t a need for humans running the very system they created anymore.

If the system, built by humans with all its policies and expectations, did not need its creators to run itself anymore, what would happen next? People expected an AI uprising to happen the following week, but none came.

Soon enough, when things went back to normal and services greatly improved, the conspiracy began to fade away. There was no AI taking over the city, the people realized, and the majority have moved on, dismissing it all as hoax and fear mongering of change. No evidence was presented about the government commissioning an AI from a private enterprise.

After all, who in their right minds would complain over a more effective and efficient, and overall better functioning city?

“We have everything planned out for you,” Tudor reassured, bringing Gavin out of his thoughts. “Risking your health is the least we want to do. You will not go alone. You will bring 9-0-0, which is an advanced AI derived from DcOs. It can do all the dirty work for you: surveillance, remote hacking, wiretapping, you name it. You will be posing as a hacker developing your own cocktail of advanced AI, but in actuality it is 9-0-0.”

“You’ll find more information about your alias in the tab,” Perkins said. He handed Gavin a laptop. “And this is the 9-0-0.”

“Not precisely,” Tudor said, “9-0-0 is not yet activated; you will have to boot it up once you are in your undercover hideout. Your hideout has already been prepared, so there is no need to worry about that either. Like I said, everything has been laid out for you, Detective Reed. All that is left is for you to accept the mission.”

“Take some time to think about it,” Perkins said, as if sensing Gavin’s slight uncertainty, “read what’s in the tablet. We got plenty of time. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

It’s not that Gavin was uncertain. He wanted this mission so badly, but just last week he was forced to face his own mortality. Couldn’t take a supercharged blow from an outdated walking gearbox without getting a severe concussion. Got fucked over by his superior, forcing him to lick his own wounds. Before he could get swallowed up by his thoughts, Gavin decided to immerse himself in the contents of the tablet.

“All this ruckus had me returning to Detroit. I haven’t been here in a long while,” Tudor said to Perkins casually, after a long moment of silence. “Do you know what this reminds me of? The Red Ice Task Force.”

Gavin was in the middle of reading the restrictions of the activities he’d be bound to partake in during his undercover. The only hard line he wasn’t allowed to cross was assassination of anyone—HUMANS, stated in bold letters—within the police force, FBI, government, and CyberLife C-suite. He’s only to contact the FBI for further instructions if and only if he has successfully infiltrated the organization. Further updates of the mission, change of plans or withdrawal, will be communicated only through the 9-0-0 for security purposes.

In other words, Gavin would have to operate on his own, no one else beside him other than an advanced AI. He didn’t even know about the other agents undercover to avoid the risk of compromise.

“I heard you were among the people behind its founding,” Perkins said.

Gavin looked up.

“Yes, I was. I was still a deputy assistant director then,” Tudor recollected. “I remembered approaching Lieutenant Anderson and Captain Fowler to offer them positions in the task force. I have been closely watching their growth throughout the years, when they first started. I’ve never seen anything like those two. Leagues ahead of their batch, great synergy, amazing work ethic. They always delivered what is asked of them, and more.” 

“Sad to see what happened to Anderson now. An incompetent drunkard. Even Fowler has lost his shine,” Perkins said. “The past few weeks they’ve spent most of their time pandering to those plastic pricks instead of getting the job done.”

"Not even just these weeks, but overall there has been a decline in the DPD's procedural." Tudor shook his head. “I’m beginning to think Captain Fowler is swallowed by his disillusion and folly. He thinks he could remove corruption in the system.”

“Man, that is pathetic,” Perkins laughed.

“Despite everything now,” Tudor said, “I have never regretted putting them both in the task force. They made history, and I was among the people behind it, orchestrating it all. Of course I wished for things to be better, but now the only way to achieve that is if the two are replaced,” Tudor lamented.

He glanced at Gavin, who was startled at the realization that he had been staring.

“If things go right, Detective Reed,” Tudor mused, “your name will be in history books.” There was a glint in his eyes and a promise in his smile.

Gavin’s hands were shaking and sweating; he had never wanted anything so bad before this. Most of his career, Gavin had to barrel into Fowler’s office, demanding to be taken seriously and be given what he’s worth. He had the skills, the performance, and the drive to prove to himself and to those who mattered that he took everything seriously. He refused to settle for less, like the scraps thrown in his way and the case takeovers.

He could play nice when it was required of him, but beyond the necessary benevolent attitude towards private citizens and taxpayers, kindness hadn’t done anything for Gavin. He pissed people off and stepped on their toes, but that’s just the name of the game. He knew those fuckers wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to him if given the right opportunity. It’s do or be done.

The stakes were skyline high. How many detectives in Detroit city have been personally approached by an Assistant Director of the FBI? A decade and a year ago, the cheaper and more addictive Red Ice had overtaken the city at an unprecedented rate. Tudor Rieger went to Hank Anderson, asking for him to lend his brilliant mind to locate the dealers and suppliers. Two years later, Hank was promoted to lieutenant, cementing himself in history as the youngest Detroit has had.

Now, the same Tudor Rieger was facing Gavin Reed, dangling in front of him a proposition that he had waited for all his life.

This mission would be to him what the Red Ice Task Force was to Hank Anderson.  _ If things go right _ , Gavin thought deliriously,  _ what will I get?  _ His mouth watered; he was dying to taste it.

“Think about it,” Perkins insisted.

Gavin was done thinking.

“I’m in,” Gavin said. It was in finality.

When Gavin was still a rookie, he religiously followed every update of every case that was handled by the Red Ice Task Force. Hank was a shining beacon then, the perfect role model, someone everyone looked up to and wanted to be. When he was promoted, it was like the entire city celebrated with him, even Gavin, who was young and dumb and believed in heroes back then. Hank was so well-loved and well-respected. It was scary to think an accident had changed it all.

_ What happened, Hank?  _ Gavin would ask. At first, to Hank, but now, mostly to himself. Still, Gavin found himself asking, time and time again. Staring at the wreckage of metal and oil on the street, and then at the wreckage of the man on the hospital bed. The first time Hank showed up at work, inebriated, lashing out at anyone who dared to get up in his personal space. Hank, facedown on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles, a half-empty shared cabinet for two, and a loaded gun in his hand.  _ What happened, Hank _ ?

Connor, sitting on Hank's desk, fussing over him, cracking jokes with him— _ what happened _ —and Hank allowed it all, welcoming him in places Gavin had lost all the right to be in— _ Hank? _

“Excellent,” Tudor said, pride all over his face.

* * *

Gavin didn’t know how much time passed sitting at the backseat with the two FBI personnel. He was caught up in the briefing of the mission. When the car finally stopped, it took him a while to recognize the familiar shrubbery and external layout of his apartment building. Gavin didn’t remember giving directions or telling them his address.

Gavin knew the trip from his apartment to the hospital wouldn’t have taken up an hour. They must have circled around the city until they’ve covered everything they need to cover.

“Best of luck, Detective Reed. Once again, I am honored to have you in my team. I’ll meet you again once you’re in the org.” Tudor said as his parting words before the car door closed.

The car drove away, going smaller the more it gained distance, eventually disappearing from view, leaving Gavin to stand by himself. Without the weight of the tablet and laptop in his arms, Gavin would’ve thought the entire thing was a hallucination, a side effect of his medicine. Maybe he’d wake up sweating and choking, still confined to a hospital bed, a face looming over him, casting shadows, the only light is LED spinning rapidly—

_ I’m here _ , Gavin reminded himself, before his heart rate picked up. He’s not waking up anytime soon.

Gavin glanced up his apartment window. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn. He made his way up, this time taking the elevator. He was dead tired, and there was nothing to prove by himself anymore. When he reached his apartment door, Gavin noticed Tina’s shoes on his welcome mat. Briefly, Gavin remembered a constant pinging from his phone throughout the ride, no doubt done by Tina.

She was probably worried sick for him, looking out from his window every now, and trying to figure out which car Gavin was in. Did she notice Gavin’s arrival? Tina, behind the curtains as the car pulled over the driveway, her shadow outline against the curtains, blending in with the darkness. He couldn’t picture her face.

He didn’t want to deal with Tina tonight. But he knew she wasn’t going anywhere until he arrived.

The door was locked, so Gavin had to fumble for his house keys. He didn’t bother knocking, and Tina didn’t bother opening the door for him, even though Gavin knew the racket he was making outside.

It took Gavin’s eyes a while to get accustomed to the darkness. He saw Tina sitting on his sofa, her back facing him. No one could set up a confrontation better than her.

“Enjoyed hanging out with your new FBI buddies?” Tina said. Her voice was too calm for Gavin’s liking.

“Tina, can we not?” Gavin pleaded. “My head hurts and I just got back from the hospital.”

“Oh, so you can entertain those douchebags but not me?”

Tina slowly stood up, facing Gavin now. She was standing against the weak light coming from the living room windows, but still he could tell she’d been crying.  _ Because of me _ , Gavin knew.

“You wouldn’t have told me,” Tina asked slowly, “would you?”

“You know it’s classified.”

“So you’ll just disappear on me and show up three months after with half your nose fucked and another new personality you picked up from the feds?”

She’d never let that down. His first undercover mission. He set down his bag on the floor, and carefully placed the tablet and laptop on the dining table. Tina knew those items weren’t his.

“You accepted it?” she said, her voice picking up. “You’re not even fit for desk work.”

“It’s fine, Tina. I can handle it.”

“Didn’t you also think you could handle Connor when you confronted him in the evidence room?”

Gavin was starting to get pissed off. How did that metal for brains worm his way into Gavin’s life and make everyone around him turn against him? If only Gavin didn’t slip up and Connor wasn’t fast enough, he could’ve—

“I can’t deal with you right now.” Gavin said.

He turned the lights on. Tina didn’t flinch at the light. His room was chilly, but still Gavin found himself sweating. He’s also really fidgety. He really needed just one—

“Looking for your cigarettes?” she asked. “Too bad I threw them all out. You could try dumpster diving, but I think they were cleared hours ago.”

“What the fuck, Tina?” Gavin bit out. He checked the shelves and the kitchen cupboard. He went to his bedroom drawers and his bathroom cabinet. All cleaned off of his cigarette packs and cases. It was the first time she went through his things. She nagged him a lot, but she never took it a step further until now. It was one of their unspoken arguments, up until now.

“I’m sorry,” she said, unsympathetically, when Gavin returned to the living room. She didn’t move an inch. “You know it’s doctor’s orders.”

“What the fuck is your problem, Tina,” Gavin was yelling now. Every bit of him was full of tension, and it was making his head pound harder. “You know this means a lot to me, I’ve been waiting for something like this all my life! It could get me a recommendation, or, fucking hell, even a promotion. Because last time I checked, Fowler doesn’t want to give me shit. You fucking know that, so why couldn’t you be happy for me!”

“Gavin I just want you to sit the fuck down and stop thinking out of your asshole,” Tina matched his screams. “Nobody is out to fucking get you! People care about you. Maybe if you stopped seeing everything as a competition you’d fucking understand that!”

“Bull-fucking-shit. I never fucking asked  _ kindness _ from anyone, so they can get down their high horses and stop expecting me to be  _ grateful _ .”

“God you’re so fucking full of yourself,” Tina threw out her hands, taking fistfuls of her hair in agitation. “Go ahead! See if I care if your fucking dead body end up clogging the sewage.”

“Wouldn’t that be convenient for you if I fucking die? You finally get to replace me and take my badge--”

Tina threw him a pillow. Then another one, and another one, taking all of the pillows on the sofa. The force was strong enough that even if he blocked the cushion with his hands, it still knocked him back and made his ears ring. Her hands were balled to fists, violently shaking. Tears were streaming down her face. He had never seen her so upset like this before. Gavin knew she was holding back for his sake; they both know Gavin couldn’t currently handle Tina’s punches.

And Gavin knew he took it a step too far. “Tina, shit, I didn’t mean it like that.”

She had all the right to be angry at Gavin, to strike back at his nasty remark and win the argument. Instead, she fell back into the sofa, curling in on herself.

“I don’t give a shit about your stupid shiny detective badge,” she sobbed, trying to let the words out while gasping for breath. “Why couldn’t you get that inside your empty head you arrogant, selfish, piece of shit. I just want you safe.”

Gavin took a pillow off the floor, gingerly sitting himself at the edge of the sofa; he’s close enough for her to feel his presence, but far enough to give her space. He offered the pillow, a peace offering of sorts.

“I was lucky enough to get you to the hospital in time,” Tina hiccupped, “If Perkins—fuck his ugly ass—hadn’t found you, who knows what would’ve happened? You were unresponsive. I was so scared. And now, you accepted this stupid fucking mission and I can’t be there anymore.”

“I know, T,” Gavin said. It was difficult to swallow. He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” she said.

Tina moved towards Gavin, and he enveloped her in a hug. She melted in his arms, her sobs slowing down to sniffling. They stayed like this for a while, coming down from a height of aggressive emotions, burnt out and weak, and feeling each other’s warmth in Gavin’s chilly apartment.

“What I said then, I didn’t mean it,” Gavin whispered. The atmosphere in the room was so fragile that he felt like he could shatter it with one false move. “I am so sorry, Tina”

“I am not. I mean everything I said,” she replied, rubbing her nose against his shirt, “minus the dying part. Nothing has ever been enough for you.”

“Tina—”

“I hope this time, you get what you want, Gav. So you stop being this insufferable.”

Gavin chuckled softly, his chest jostling Tina in the gentlest way, who cracked a smile that he could feel against his tear-stained shirt.

“I hope I do T, I hope I do.”

“Are you starting tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but I have to give my gun and badge to Cap.”

Tina made a noise. “Good luck with that. I’m not going with you. I can drop you off, but you’re on your own to face him. Hank too.”

Gavin made a long sigh, and buried his nose into her hair.

* * *

_ You think you're better than everyone else. _

The daily weather forecast expected constant rain and the occasional thunderstorm, with varying degrees of intensity, never coming to a full stop until late night. It was a perfect cover for Gavin; most of the drones couldn't operate in the heavy downpour, and people tend to flock in great numbers under roofed establishments. He knew how to blend in among a sea of faces, easily slipping past monitoring and going stealth.

Gavin took his time traversing the veins of Detroit. There was no rush. He only had one clear destination. The coordinates of his hideout were seared into his mind, down to the last digit, and the map a clear picture in his head. In the age where electronic chips come with undetected audiences, memory was one of the last bastions for keeping untraceable secrets.

Taking advantage of the interconnected streets of the city, Gavin tried his best to be as obscure as possible, keeping his head hung low and ducking under other people's umbrellas, blocking the sightlines of his face. He wore large, baggy clothes to blur out his build. Moving around Detroit city without leaving any digital trail was no easy task, requiring high amounts of both patience and vigilance. Public transportation that required any sort of identification was out of the question, even privately owned cabs had some type of tracking in them, unbeknownst to the general public.

There was no such thing as too careful when enemy eyes could be anywhere and everywhere, possibly even compromising the city's systems.

Since he didn't have the strength and stamina to walk for miles, the next best option for him was using unverified carpooling services. Security was lax and easily bypassed by creating a throwaway account. Though the risk was having people be in close contact with him and potentially profiling him, it wasn't anything he couldn't mitigate with the help of makeup and disguises.

Gavin alternated between short and long rides, sometimes being the first passenger to get off or the last. No one tried to socialize with him or gave him lingering stares, whether he was in a waiting shed or inside a shared car, just the way he liked it. The rain was a good distraction because it kept people preoccupied with ensuring their things and selves were dry to notice about anyone or anything else.

Gavin, too, was mindful of the weight of the laptop and tablet on his back. It anchored him, the weight, even though it strained his body and forced him to take more rests than he would’ve liked. Every time a sharp pang or a low reverbing ache would hit, he's then reminded of the cold and hard surface of the evidence room floor, of the long days in the hospital, and of Connor. And then he's angry all over again, seeing red.

Was it the red he’s seeing from his anger, or was it the blood--his blood--spilling out of his body and spreading on the floor?

Perhaps, Connor's red LED?

To keep himself from losing his mind, Gavin forced himself to review everything he absorbed from the tablet. It was jarring just how little information there was about the anarchist group, save from the public organized attacks they've claimed were their doing. He scoured the web for anything more but because of censorship, any public posts about the group have been flagged or taken down. 

All he knew was that efforts to infiltrate the group were a continuing failure. It wasn't explicitly written in the file, but he had a grim idea that behind every failure was a corpse. Terrifying, but unsurprising.

The implications of it all was not entirely lost on Gavin. The only way out of this assignment would be through a successful infiltration or in a body bag. He was not scared. At least, not yet.

_ You think you have everything figured out, Reed. _

He stopped at a food truck stationed under one of the large outdoor canopies set up on a park, deciding to take another rest and a bite to eat. Warm burger and coffee felt like a good idea. Under the canopy, there were only a total of four people, huddled in the center where the spray of rain couldn’t reach. Gavin took a place facing away from the people, overlooking the drenched empty park, sheets upon sheets falling on the pavement.

By now, he had covered as many roads as he could, hopping from one car to another, traveled as one with the never-ending stream of people. He inched closer and closer to his destination, all the while ensuring there's no immediate way of tracing him. He’s satisfied.

He belatedly realized, as he ate his burger, how long it's been since he's up close and personal in the busy streets of Detroit. Gavin had several blue-collar jobs as a teenager, ranging from attendants to other odd jobs, that required him to do emotional labor and deal with absolute bullshit. When he joined the police force, he hadn’t bought his car yet and his apartment was far from the academy and the precinct where he had to report to everyday. He had to endure shitty public transport and a few walking blocks.

Now, having his own car and sticking to a route for work has narrowed Gavin's life and perception of the city, like encasing himself in his own bubble. He stopped seeing the city come to life in rush hours and slow down to rest in the dark and quiet of the night. He had no time to wander aimlessly around the city on his own accord, without a direction in mind, enjoying the city as it was. A predictable routine he followed for years: work, home, groceries, cafe, bar, and the gym. Gavin would get glimpses of lives outside his own in every case, interviewing the neighbors, families, friends, tracing leads, and studying patterns of behavior, but they've always felt more professional than personal. They were things Gavin would leave on his desk, already forgotten the moment he stepped out of the precinct. 

When he landed a spot in the police and eventually gained the detective badge, he stopped seeing himself as part of the public. It was hard not to; being given a position behind the screens of mass surveillance and a foothold of power. But Gavin knew, even as a police officer and an employee of the government, that his entire life was also being closely monitored.

By whom? Or by what? Everywhere there was a food chain of sorts, and he's never the big fish in the wrong waters.

Longer still since Gavin idled by, with junk food in hand and the entire day to spare, watching people be. People-watching, observing people and taking in every minute detail: mannerism, behavior, fashion sense, and down to their reaction to the environment. He’d hypothesize about their jobs, personalities, and lifestyles, how likely they’d be a dick to service workers or getting caught up in petty crimes.

Initially, not his idea of fun nor had he thought food trucks were a contender of good food, but Hank introduced them all to him.

_ But do you really know what you want? _

Gavin dropped his half-eaten vegan burger on the table, appetite gone. For someone who’d easily get pissed, he sure directed a lot of his thoughts to places guaranteed to get him pissed. He popped open his pill box--meticulously arranged by Tina--and washed down what’s due with his coffee, burning his tongue. The sun would be setting around this time, obscured as it was due to the storm clouds, and it was almost time for him to get going.

The rain was almost at a full stop by the time he arrived at the street of his hideaway, just in time for his headache to start working up its own storm inside his head. The address was in one of the countless neglected places of the outer-city, rampant like cracks and crevices of a poorly structured house.

The roads were at least an ankle deep of flood, murky water sloshing at the slightest motion of the passing feet and wheels, before rippling to a rest. Uneven structures lined up, stacking and cramming themselves in whatever splinter of space they could claim. Not a single building cladding was spared from stains and vandalism.

The street was alight and brought to life by glaring storefront neon lights and LCD advertising boards. A warfare of colors; each store competing against each other and trying hard to stand out and attract customers more. In a way, the mixing hues softened the look of the grit and grime.

No other soul was outside besides Gavin and his shadow. The rains and flood kept people inside their homes, windows tightly shut and curtains drawn closed. His apartment building was a little ways deeper into the block, almost like a maze in its turns, with narrow and badly lit passageways. The FEDs couldn’t have picked a better hideout place for him.

Gavin wished he hadn’t thrown away his burger to save himself the effort of looking for a place to get some dinner. Good thing vending machines were a staple in this ramshackle place, taking up an entire shallow corridor with bad lighting. Surprisingly, there were a lot of options to choose from, including full meals and hot food, but he settled for the classic hot sandwich, easy to eat. The sandwich vending machine puttered too loud and too slow for his liking, until it spat out his sandwich in the most unappealing way possible.

At long last Gavin reached the studio apartment acting hideout. He’d be staying here for an indefinite amount of time. The place was surprisingly not too shabby inside, but he suspected it could’ve been revamped by the FBI. Even the bathroom was pristine and cleaned ahead of time, all faucets functioning and the toilet flushing.

Gavin looked at his reflection on the mirror, at his dark eyes and the lack of facial scars. He supposed it's a good look on him, like starting over, the history of his aggression filled with bar fights and reckless adrenaline chases erased. Tina once said it was his unassuming face and reserved demeanor that got her to like Gavin, a score and more years ago. She found his shyness absolutely funny, convinced that he was a late bloomer. In a way, she was right.

After removing his contact lenses, he ran the faucet sink and scrubbed the concealer off his face with soap, grimacing at the color of flesh washing down the drain and staining the sink. He'd have to do this every time he'd be in close contact with people, or at least until 9-0-0 was activated.

He patted his bare face dry, and now he's himself again, the old Gavin Reed looking back at him in the mirror, the scars and menacing look accounted for. Most of the scars had been mended by Tina.

There’s no energy left in his aching body to scout more of the area and his room. He'll have to do it tomorrow, thoroughly and exhaustively to make up for his inability to do it tonight.

For now, he had to set up the 9-0-0 and let it run overnight to boot itself up before he could sleep. By the bed, the computer and servers were already assembled for him. It’s where Gavin would need to boot up the 9-0-0 and presumably where it would run seamlessly to aid him.

“How fucking big are you that you need a whole night of installation,” Gavin wondered aloud. He wasn’t expecting a reply.

The bright light of the laptop temporarily blinded him as he turned it on. To his relief, he didn't have to do any complicated technical shit for the setup. He watched the screens fill up with texts and processes. He thought about how much the 9-0-0, derived from DcOs and made to be portable, and other AI programs just like it that the FEDs used for cases and investigations. A weapon for mass surveillance, specifically engineered to be extremely adaptable and portable.

After eating his sandwich and drinking his meds, he stripped down to just his boxers and collapsed unto the bed. His body ached from exertion; legs sore and shoulders tight.

“I hope you’re worth the effort,” he groused, looking at the computer. The lights from both the computer and laptop cut across the darkness and illuminated the room in a kaleidoscope of colors.

When sleep claimed him, he was taken back to the precinct. Gavin’s gun and badge on Fowler’s desk, the glower on the captain’s face, and Hank’s look of disgust, the venom leaving his mouth. It was unfair, how they were all up against him. In sleep, Gavin’s carefully placed facade fell away and he’s a wound reopened too many times, by his own doing. In the morning, he’d wake up tired and angry at a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

But for now, he was asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Different shades of cool colors swam in Gavin’s vision, dream-like in their haze and forgiving in ways the rays of the sun couldn’t be. He didn’t remember owning a night light.
> 
> “Good morning,” a voice greeted.
> 
> Gavin’s heart almost jumped out of his ribcage. “Shit, what the fuck,” he bit out. He looked around the room, finding nothing else but the computer. It was, he discovered, the source of the lights.
> 
> “I am 9-0-0, the advanced AI deployed by the FBI,” it said. “I will be your partner for this mission, V.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: protester suppression

Shaking and bleary from sleep, it took Gavin a while to come back to himself, wondering hazily why he was in an unfamiliar bed and looking at an unfamiliar ceiling. He sat up, drenched in cold sweat with the sheets parting around him, the clutches of sleep loosening its grip. The ringing in his ears was too loud and too obnoxious, and for what, he just literally woke up.

The heavy curtains were drawn closed, making it hard to tell the time of day. Instead of sunlight, it was the multicolored lights that filled up the room. Different shades of cool colors swam in Gavin’s vision, dream-like in their haze and forgiving in ways the rays of the sun couldn’t be. He didn’t remember owning a night light.

“Good morning,” a voice greeted.

Gavin’s heart almost jumped out of his ribcage. “Shit, what the fuck,” he bit out. He looked around the room, finding nothing else but the computer. It was, he discovered, the source of the lights.

“I am 9-0-0, the advanced AI deployed by the FBI,” it said. “I will be your partner for this mission, V.”

V? Who was V?  _ Right _ , his alias. He was not Detective Gavin Reed anymore. He was a lone hacker doing his best and hoping to break into an anarchist group. This was his life now, indefinitely.

The lights flickered towards him, the way a barcode scanner did. Gavin felt that he was being regarded and analyzed. He did  _ not _ like that one bit, feeling self-conscious of his state of undress. He pulled the sheets tighter against him, feeling like a woman in a modesty bed sheet trope.

"What time is it?" Gavin asked, throat dry and scratchy.

"It is half-past nine in the morning," 9-0-0 said. Its accent was exactly like those fancy text-to-speech programs incorporated with simulated emotions, though the voice was richer in a way Gavin couldn't pinpoint. Maybe it was the built-in speaker quality, which almost sounded like it surrounded the entire room. "The weather is cloudy with little to no chance of rainfall,” 9-0-0 continued. “Temperature drops—"

"Okay okay, I only asked for the time, jeez," Gavin said. He rubbed his face and stretched, the bubbles in his body popping one by one. 9-0-0's lights were steady, with the periodic blinks to them, like an indication that it was still listening. Observing, taking in everything. Waiting.

Fucking creepy as shit. And he thought androids were invasive with their almost perfect human mimicry and overanalyzing stares that they don't even have the decency to hide. Now he was dealing with a faceless AI that could still see, hear, and even understand his every move.

"I have already been briefed on the mission," 9-0-0 said, "and I trust you have been debriefed as well. While you were sleeping, I compiled a list of objectives to accomplish—"

"Come on, man, I'm still in bed. Just chill for a few. We'll talk after I eat and shower."

The lights flashed faintly for a beat. "Affirmative, V. I will be waiting."

_ Ugh _ . Gavin wanted to stay a bit more in bed to let his sore muscles rest but now with the supercomputer activated and watching him, it would be better to haul ass than displaying himself like Thanksgiving turkey. It's late, by the regular worker’s standards, and he was overdue to drink his meds, so eating was the first priority.

Carefully, Gavin took his clothes from the floor, doing his best to wear them while under the sheets.  _ Ridiculous _ , he thought. His clothes were wrinkled, smelling of him and yesterday’s rain. He fished a baseball call from his bag.

"Where are you going, V?" 9-0-0 called.

"Eat," he said. The door locked shut behind him.

Gavin sighed as he made his way down, ducking as he passed by a security camera. Had 9-0-0 secured the apartment block yet? Was it following his every move through the security cameras scattered throughout the building, judging him? He honestly didn't want to know, but he had to at least ask if it had already been done for an extra protective measure.

There was a petite woman in the hall filled with vending machines, standing just around the corner of a blind spot that Gavin almost bumped into her. She almost dropped her things, various items from the vending machines, in surprise.

"Sorry," the woman squeaked, head lowering and moving past Gavin in a rush. She was gone before he could apologize back.

This neighborhood, if one would call it that, must be so alienating and isolating for her to react that way. Even back at his own apartment, Gavin hated his neighbors and rarely interacted with them. People came and went, and the cramped and isolated spaces made it hard to cultivate a nice social atmosphere.

Unless she was frightened because she was alone in the presence of a man, which was understandable. Gavin didn’t exactly have the friendly face of a stranger to begin with and coming to this corridor alone whatever time of day was indeed really terrifying. One could get mugged and scream their lungs out, and no one would hear. No one would come to your aid, no one wanted to be responsible.

Besides the woman earlier, there wasn’t anyone else in the hall with him, even when he was on his way down. Gavin got two cans of coffee, a water bottle, and one hot breakfast meal. He idled by, taking his time walking around the empty floor and looking for a good place to eat. He didn’t want to eat in his room with 9-0-0 there. It already watched him sleep, for fuck’s sake.

He took the elevator and went up to the farthest level it could reach, then took the stairs to get to the rooftop. Good thing the rooftop wasn’t locked. Whatever leftover debris from the rain had frozen up. Large solar panels were lined up in neat rows, their sturdy stands outstretched towards the sky as if meeting the sunrays halfway. Gavin sat down underneath the shade of one, making sure to stay clear from the ice puddles and opening his now lukewarm meal.

It was cold, and Gavin wished he also brought a hoodie along with him. Beyond the rooftop ledges, Gavin could see luxury skyscrapers and the newer, more expensive residential buildings. The CyberLife Tower stood tall and proud on the horizon, one of the longest among the lines, swarmed by security drones that were moving along their respective orbits, precise and confident of their own abilities.

Gavin took in the morning view from the rooftop of an old, almost decrepit, middle-rise building. It was rare for him to have an unobstructed view of the city. His own apartment wasn’t situated high enough for him to see this kind of view when he peered out of his window, too deep within the concrete jungle to see the surface, and the building’s rooftop was claimed by the band of the rich assholes who dominated the top suite floors.

9-0-0 shouldn’t reach him here.

Gavin knew he wouldn’t be able to hide away from it forever. The two of them had to work together for an indefinite amount of time, after all. Any form of close partnership for work had always left a bad taste in his mouth. His partner would eventually piss him off, be it human or android. For years, he managed to fend off Fowler’s threats of being assigned a permanent partner by fulfilling the clearance rate quota.

Technically, 9-0-0 wasn’t an android nor a human. But then again, just because he was working  _ with  _ a surveillance bot didn’t mean he had to trust it didn’t turn on him. These things were guaranteed to be cannibalistic fuckers, even worse than backstabbing coworkers.

At least, that's what his sci-fi comics paint them out to be.

Gavin watched the large moving advertisement for androids on the CyberLife building.  _ Science fiction, huh _ .

_ Get your shit together, Reed _ .

“Did you enjoy your meal, V?” 9-0-0 asked. Gavin literally just stepped back into the room. 9-0-0’s voice was bland, devoid of anything but a question intonation, but for some reason, Gavin felt like he was being  _ interrogated _ , which got under his skin. It brought him back to his confrontation with Tina.

“You secured the building already?” Gavin asked.

“Yes, I have. I have erased all the security footage with you in it,” 9-0-0 said. “I have, as well, a directory of everyone currently living in the apartment block, the empty rooms, as well as tapped into their devices and done background checks—”

“Cool,” Gavin cut him off, “it’ll be useful someday, but not now. At least.” Yep, this was  _ exactly _ why he didn’t want to be around 9-0-0. "I'm gonna take a shower," Gavin announced, resisting the urge to add,  _ don't spy on me, you creep _ .

“Affirmative, V.”

The shower was surprisingly pleasant. He was glad he showered this late in the morning; hot water was abundant again, the heat releasing the tension out his body. After Gavin was sure he’d scrubbed himself raw and all his pores had opened up from the steam, he turned off the shower. He looked around the bathroom, wondering what was amiss.

It was then Gavin realized he forgot to bring his towel and set of clean clothes with him inside the bathroom.

“Fuck,” Gavin cursed.

He stood there at the center of the bathroom, like an idiot, dripping water unto the tiles. The mirror was all fogged up, and he could only see himself from the chest up, skin pink from exfoliation, and his limp wet hair, sticking to his face. The towel and clean clothes were still inside his bag, which was placed exactly in front of 9-0-0.

What the fuck was he going to do? Gavin refused to wear his day-old clothes again; they were absolutely disgusting, but he could use them as a shield for his dick or something. This was so fucking dumb.

“900?” he called out. “900.”

“Yes, V?” 9-0-0 replied, sounding like it was just lounging on the bed.

“Can you,” he said slowly, “turn off your cameras or stop recording? Just for a while.”

“What for?” 9-0-0 asked like it’s genuinely confused.

“Can you just do it?” he gritted out.

“I cannot.”

“Why the fuck not! Even just a minute?”

“I need the proper authorizations and circumstances to disable any of my core functions,” 9-0-0 said haughtily. “You do not have administrative permission, V. Why are you insisting I do such a thing?”

“You telling me you can’t disable your own shit?”

“I am telling you whatever reasons you want them disabled are irrelevant. We are not under threat, we are not compromised.”

“Fuck my entire life,” Gavin groaned in frustration.

“It is almost noontime, V,” 9-0-0 said haughtily. “We are wasting daylight hours. I suggest you finish up so we can put the day to good use.”

Shit, it’s almost noon. Gavin was already late on his morning meds. The cold was beginning to seep into Gavin’s body, creeping slowly to his bones. Any more idle and it could erupt into full-blown shivers and chattering teeth. There’s no way out of this but through it, and now he was almost too pissed at 9-0-0 to care about his nudity anymore.

His first big-time mission in a long while and he’d be flashing his bare ass to a weapon of mass surveillance. The thought made heat rise up to his face and torso, and he wanted to scream.

It had to be done.

He marched out of the bathroom, his previous clothes bunched up in front of his crotch to protect whatever shred of decency he had left, spattering water all over the floor. 9-0-0 lights flickered toward him—faster than what Gavin noticed from it so far—like it was drinking the expanse of his body right down to his follicle.

“This—”

“Not a word,” Gavin warned.

9-0-0’s lights didn’t falter. Gavin could’ve sworn the lights swept up his head and down to his toes, sometimes hovering in between. It probably recorded in full HD all the ways his body reacted to the environment, pink skin deepening to blush red, hairs standing on end at the biting cold, rivulets of water refracting its lights back—

9-0-0 didn’t say another word. Still, the lights kept sweeping over him.

After he got dressed and drank his medication, Gavin slumped on the bed, already feeling drained. And the day hadn’t even started for him yet. In front of him, 9-0-0 waited still, its lights twinkling with patience reserved for things that had nowhere to go.

He sighed. “Alright, I’m done. List of objectives, you say?”

“Yes,” 9-0-0 replied, “I have a compilation of our order of business in the foreseeable future. I did what I can to narrow down our approach on how to capture the attention of The Emancipated Eagle, the underground anarchist group. Records have shown that the group is more interested in recruiting experienced and skilled digital natives with an inclination to hacking—”

“Wait, what? What records? I haven’t read that in the files.”

“A lot of information about the group is classified information, V. Only I have access to it.”

That ticked Gavin off. “The fuck? What’s the point of having me—a 'warm body on the field'—if I don’t have access to information about the organization that I’m literally tasked to infiltrate? It’s like I’m going in blind.”

“You are not going in blind, V. You have me," it said. 9-0-0's tone was supposed to be reassuring, but Gavin chose to interpret it as patronizing. "Rest assured, all of the relevant knowledge I have about the group will be shared with you—”

“ _ Relevant _ ? Who are  _ you _ to decide what’s relevant or not? We’re  _ partners _ , for christ’s sake. I deserve to know every last bit of detail that you know about the group too.”

“V,” 9-0-0 said. It dropped the diplomatic tone and came up sharp. “There is nothing I can do about it. I have protocols to follow. You have no other choice but to trust in me to provide the right information when it is needed.”

“This is bullshit,” Gavin said.

“As you have stated it: we are partners. I will not withhold anything from you that will threaten the success of this mission." Now, 9-0-0 mellowed down, though it kept the tone firm. Conciliatory, yielding where Gavin was combatant, but standing its ground. The AI was adapting to Gavin's temperament in real-time, taking in all of his facial expressions and nonverbal cues, modulating its next approach after his responses, ensuring it reaches its desired outcome.  _ Just like Connor _ , he immediately thought.

"Shall we continue?” 9-0-0 asked.

Gavin exhaled through his nose audibly. 9-0-0 took that as a sign to continue.

"The anarchist front is also more inclined to recruit progressive individuals. Following these patterns and connecting it to your undercover persona as a rogue hacker, we need to perform activities under the guise of following your progressive personal advocacies. Fight racism, help the poor, seek justice for victims of corruption."

"So what do I do? Am I just gonna sit here, don a mask while you run a script in the background, then hijack live news broadcasts like android Jesus, or watch you hack government websites?"

"We can perform those bold actions," 9-0-0 said thoughtfully, "but they take too much attention. Do not forget, the local police do not know about this mission. Adding them into the situation will greatly limit our movement as a target would be placed on our heads, turning this mission into a countdown of who will get to us first: the EE, or the police."

“Vigilante work then. We cover a lot of ground, go around acting like twenty-third century’s Anonymous Neighborhood Watch to get the EE’s heads turning. I know for a fact that police don’t give a shit about petty crimes that need a lot of work tracking down because right now every precinct is swamped with the ongoing revolution.”

“I have considered that as well—”

“Then we’re going for it,” Gavin declared. He bounced to his feet, already impatient and eager to do something to start. He looked at 9-0-0, a well-placed computer setup with flickering lights. It looked like it wasn’t moving anytime soon. “So how are you going places with me?”

The lights flickered as if there was something 9-0-0 wanted to say, but they settled down. Something popped from the desk, revealing a drawer that Gavin hadn’t even noticed. “In the drawer,” 9-0-0 said, “you will find a cell phone and earpieces, perfect for use whenever you leave the room. I will be able to connect with you through the phone.”

“This feels like a spy movie,” Gavin commented as he took the devices. The phone looked generic enough, but upon closer inspection, there were no logo anywhere on the surface which meant it could specifically be designed for police operations such as this. “What happens if I lose this?” he wondered aloud.

“There are replacements,” 9-0-0 said, “but as much as possible, please do not lose it. You need to register your biometrics. If an unauthorized person tries to access, it automatically executes factory reset.”

“Gotcha Jarvis,” he said. His suspicions have been confirmed: the phone wasn’t conventional at all. No preloaded G-Suite applications or anything else, except for the bare-bone embedded features. 

He wouldn’t be able to contact Tina even if he tried. He had her number memorized more than his own, texting her from a stranger’s phone when both his eyes were swelling from someone’s knuckles or calling her inside a speeding ambulance through an android EMT. Gavin missed her deeply.

He wrapped the earpieces around his neck, swapped his baseball cap with a beanie, and wore extra layers to ward off the cold. Before he stepped outside, he hesitated, looking at the phone and then back at 9-0-0. “You coming, 900?” he asked.

The phone buzzed with notification, and he heard the earpieces crackle to life.

_ I’m already with you _ , the message on the screen says.

“Hello, V,” 9-0-0 said, its voice—and perhaps it’s the quality of the earpieces—sounded richer and smoother, surprisingly pleasant to the ears with this nearness, like there’s a red heart beating at the other end of the line. “Shall we?”

……………

Without the neon signposts, the neighborhood looked harsh in the morning light.

The traces of yesterday’s storm were everywhere in the city when Gavin left the apartment building. The outdoor plants and overgrowth were torn and bent, unguarded light materials were scattered all around, and the deeper flooded areas choking with washed up trash and murky waters still haven't subsided. If it weren't for the colder weather, the street would've stunk worse than it was.

Once again, the city was bustling with life. People were out and about in the streets, some idling by the sidewalk, some hurrying and outpacing the others that were walking slower paces. Gavin paused for a moment, just before a crossing, wondering where the best place to start would be.

“Where are we going?” 9-0-0 asked.

“Where the wild crimes are,” Gavin said thoughtfully, “my exact kind of place to be in.”

“The crime rate in this address is also high and concentrated,” 9-0-0 pointed out. "We could start here."

“What, you want me to knock from door to door and ask for something to do like a rookie cop? No, we’re too close for comfort to our hideaway. We can’t exactly pull off anything too risky or too heroic if the entire neighborhood knows where we live. Where will I go next?"

It's going to be hard, trying to set a balance of publicity. They had to be prolific enough that a lot of people would know about their masquerade, but slippery enough that the police wouldn’t be able to pin them down and catch them. 9-0-0 would probably do the most here, fending off unwanted surveillance while ceaselessly searching for possible entry points.

A feeling crept up from deep inside Gavin again, a thick fog starting to fill his mind and threatening to sour up his mood. It’s the feeling he’d always get whenever he dwelled too much on the rapidly thinning list of things that humans could do but androids couldn’t, almost as fast as the melting of the Antarctic ice sheets. Gone were the days when technology was dumb and useless without a human operating from behind, its practicality gauged by how easy the experience was for the human to make use of it.

_ Don't you fucking see why they're deploying you? Hank, in the dimly lit room of a near empty precinct, his face full of disgust. _

“So far," 9-0-0's spoke, its voice bringing him out of the haze, "no one else has seen you other than the woman in the corridor this morning, though from the footage, I highly doubt she had a good look on you. The woman's name is Chaim Tarius, 26 years old, single, and living in 6E.”

_ So you were monitoring me _ , Gavin thought.

“That is true, but for how long?” Gavin challenged. “You can't stop anyone from interacting and profiling me. That woman is just the first, and there will be more down the line. Going somewhere far is a safety precaution more than anything.”

“I suppose you are right,” 9-0-0 agreed.

“Damn right I am,” Gavin said. “Keep an eye out for action we can jump in.”

“Affirmative, V.”

The journey was a quiet affair. More specifically, 9-0-0 was silent for the most part, to his relief. It didn’t question Gavin’s obvious aimless roaming. Without the tells of its lights, he didn’t know what it was up to or what its thought processes were. There wasn’t any noise or crackle from his earpiece—a snort or intake of breath—that gave away signs of life, of unconscious human humdrum. It was another reminder for him that the one on the other line wasn’t human.

Regardless, he could also admit that having 9-0-0 with him made him a little less paranoid. He even forewent covering his scar.

Gavin doubted that they could actually do something today, but he was already content with being able to scout places, studying the usual bystanders and their alliances, and familiarizing himself with the landscape of the city. Maybe he just didn’t want 9-0-0 to do any more than it’s doing. Maybe he didn’t want to be useless.  _ Besides _ , he thought defensively,  _ this is necessary work.  _ Reconnaissance wasn't difficult for him, though it would definitely take a lot of time. Especially with a lot of factors hindering him, like keeping a low profile and being untraceable.

Not to mention his shitty body. He wondered if 9-0-0 knew about his delicate state, knew about his real name and identity, and ran a background check on him. How fast could it scrape up every last bit of his personal detail down to his birth, like one deep pull of a cigarette from the filter all the way to the cherry.

What was the speed of which a stalker bot could track a well-documented person? Gavin hoped his life was at least entertaining to stalk.

Despite Gavin being downtown, the city looked like a ghost town.  _ What was going on,  _ he thought. Deserted streets in broad daylight made Gavin uneasy, like something was about to go down. There should be an influx of people outdoors now that the skies have cleared. Sure, the weather got a little bit colder, just shy from freezing, but it wasn’t enough to keep people inside their homes. He, too, never saw the appeal of the cold, didn’t understand why he was walking out here about to freeze his ass off when he could've been riding his car and cranking up the heater.

"Are you cold, V?" 9-0-0 asked after he rubbed his hands together, its inflection hinting at curiosity.

"What's it to you?" Gavin sneered, hiding his slight surprise.

"There are six establishments down the block with space heaters. You could warm up inside any of them."

"I don't need a babysitter. I know what I can handle."

"I was merely concerned—"

"Again, and I ask, what's it to you? You didn't give much of a shit when I asked you to turn off your cameras."

"I reinstate, V, you were not in any immediate danger."

"I was fucking naked!" Gavin gritted out in hushed tones.

"I don't understand your problem with nudity. It is not a threat to your safety."

"Not a threat—you have a 4k HD of my bare ass! I don’t know if you’re intentionally being obtuse or you just don’t give a fuck, but—"

Gavin stopped when he heard a loud sound, staticky and seemingly coming from a megaphone, in the distance. For a moment, he was confused, until he realized he was one block away from Hart Plaza. The barricade was still up and going strong, and even from here, he could see a big crowd of protestors gathering inside it.

In the front of the barricade was a chain of police, intimidating with their sleek reinforced riot gear. Just ahead, more police vehicles were parked, on standby. His first instinct was to look for Tina or Robert—or any familiar face among the line—but it was difficult with the riot helmet and shields covering almost all of their builds. Regardless of police officers' personal opinions about protests, of which Tina was largely supportive, they didn't really have much of a say once they're forcibly deployed to disperse it. Sometimes, Gavin was relieved he wasn't required to help assist.

It wasn’t likely that the partners would be assigned for morning crowd control since they’re both night patrols, but Tina’s shifts have been going haywire because android officers, which were a huge bulk of the force, left their positions. There was a chance Tina could be among those in the line. Even though the state forces were smaller in numbers, they were definitely more lethal with their weapons strapped to themselves, against the protestors in civilian and bringing placards.

“There seems to be a demonstration going on,” 9-0-0 said.

“Let’s go check it out.”

“There is a huge crowd, V,” it said, sounding uneasy.

“Exactly. The crowd is a perfect cover. We gotta be there. And I wanna see the action.”

“Why do we need to be there?”

He didn’t know why he was arguing, it’s not like 9-0-0 could physically stop him from going to the plaza. Gavin’s literally about to cross the street.

“Look, we can ask around and get info from people over there.”

“What kind of information?”

To Gavin, 9-0-0 sounded affronted for some reason. He snorted. “Okay Electric Eye, don’t get your panties in a twist just because I’m looking for info elsewhere.”

“You used an idiom.”

“Yeah, is it illegal?”

“No, it is off-putting.”

“Well, literally everyone uses it. Get with the program.”

There was a gathering of onlookers outside the plaza too, a safe distance from the growing tension inside the barricade. From a closer perspective, Gavin could see the protestors better, and he believed there were actual human beings in the mix. It was always hard to tell when androids stopped wearing their designated clothes and LED lights. The android Jesus was also there, along with his android girlfriend and two android boyfriends. They were all standing beside a makeshift stand, where a woman, holding the megaphone that Gavin heard from afar, was on top of.

_ Oh _ , Gavin realized,  _ that’s _ —

“River K. Soutor,” 9-0-0 said. “She is an activist and the chairperson of the Detroit Liberation Front. DLF, along with several other progressive groups, expressed their support to the android rights movement.”

It was then Gavin realized why there were humans: they were forming a human shield for the androids inside the barricade. Police weren't allowed to open fire when there were humans.

The barricade was fuller than it ever was now.

River was delivering a solidarity speech on the stand, her voice unwavering and full of conviction, the words flowing seamlessly with a lifetime of experience. Not once did she stutter or break to scramble for words, nor did she mince or hesitate, fearlessly gesturing to the open space. The people around her cheered her on, echoed her hard-hitting lines and her calls to liberation. The energy of the protesters inside the barricade went higher and higher, despite the cold, despite the intimidation from the police. Everyone was responding to River, moved by her presence and her words. Even that android Jesus' girlfriend, who was always looking pissed and angry, was nodding along, looking up at her with awe and inspiration.

After all this time, she was still a force to be reckoned with. Not that Gavin had expected anything less.

“Do you know her?” 9-0-0 asked.

“She’s a well-known activist,” Gavin said. It was technically true.

"They're like ants," a person beside Gavin said, "no matter what the police do, they can't be dispersed. They always come back and build the barricade again."

"I guess that's better than blocking off the main roads," another person replied. "What's taking the president so long to make a decision anyway? I want this to be over now, it's been weeks."

"Apparently, CyberLife is having an internal crisis. Kamski is back as CEO and the investors aren't liking it. I guess President Warren doesn't want to piss off CyberLife any more than it is right now."

"Oh right, the president does have close ties with CyberLife, even though she denied that. I think most of her backers were big business and stockholders."

"See? What'd I tell you? Information," Gavin said.

"These are merely gossips, I cannot confirm nor find any reliable source backing these claims up," 9-0-0 retorted. Gavin could imagine its lights flickering in annoyance.

"You probably just don't know where to look," Gavin replied. "Or, you know, it’s  _ confidential _ ."

"I would have readily provided the information to you," 9-0-0 said crossly, "if needed, V."

Gavin couldn’t help laughing out loud. It didn’t earn him a single look.

"I am sensing distrust from you."

"Baby, you're a weapon of mass surveillance. You said and I quote, ‘I have protocols to follow.’ I know for sure your loyalty lies to the FBI or whatever it is that created you. I'm betting my money on CyberLife, what else could it be?"

"Are you saying you do not trust the FBI?"

"I'm saying all you're programmed to care about is the bottom line, nine-oh-oh."

Up ahead, Gavin spotted more police vehicles, and a water cannon, pulling up. The armored truck looked glossy under the sun, and he could tell it was probably the newer and more damaging model that the SWAT bought directly after the android demonstrations started. What he’d heard about the purchase was insane. A water cannon that could also deliver electric shocks designed to internally fry up an android’s insides. Absolutely sick. It was just rumors then, and no one ever saw it in action.

Until now. A strange feeling settled on the pit of his stomach. He knew where this was going.

"Jesus," the person from before said, "they really want them dispersed."

"You know there's something wrong when you don't feel safe around the people sworn to serve and protect you," the other person replied.

“Uh oh,” Gavin said. “Looks like we’re up.”

“I beg your pardon?” 9-0-0 asked. “Up for what?”

He pushed his way past the onlookers until he was at the very front. Gavin hesitated for a moment, just at the very edge of the blanket of people that served as his cover. The nearer it was to the plaza, the scarcer the people. If he would go charging up, he would definitely be noticed.

“The water cannon,” Gavin said, “can you reach it or do I have to move closer?”

“I have limitless range, V,” it said, “but I can’t find any opening to access the vehicle.”

“Well, do something.”

Something must have been in Gavin’s tone, because 9-0-0 didn’t try to argue. “I will look for vulnerabilities I can exploit.”

By now, it was utter chaos. Panic was thick in the air. Some protestors threw fireworks, smokescreens, and lots of other things in attempts to divert the police’s attention or at least a little bit of distraction, but the truck wasn’t having any of it.

“You better do it fast, because they don’t have much time.”

Fuck it, he was moving closer.

“V, do not—”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Nine.”

The water cannon was closing in, and the humans strengthened their barricade to keep the androids out of the blast. The shocks weren’t as lethal to humans, they said, just like what they said about the rubber bullets. Lots of prepared individuals brought umbrellas and even pool floaties to shield from the cannon, but Gavin knew those items couldn’t keep the cannon at bay.

The commotion worked well in Gavin’s favor. Most of the police forces were rallied up in front, trying to pave a way for the water cannon to get a clear angle. He was able to get to ground zero.

“What’s the hold up?” Gavin snapped.

“It will take time that we do not have for me to decrypt its security protocols. The quickest way to infiltrate the cannon is to retrieve a known access token.”

“I can get an access token from one of the police cars. But then I’ll be logged into the system.”

“Once I get in the system, I can erase your footprints easily. I just need to get in.”

The closest police vehicle to him was a few paces away. Gavin double checked to see if there were some police on standby near the vehicle, but there wasn’t any that he could see. He crouched his way, trying hard to maintain his coughs when the chemical smell of fireworks reached him.

Thank god the door was unlocked. He easily slipped inside and wasted no time registering his biometrics onto the dashboard. His work profile displayed on the screen, the ID photo version of himself taken the same year looking at him blankly. Gavin looked away, his eyes going up— 

To see the scene unfold before him in slow motion before him.

The truck wasn’t moving anymore. The water jets were slowly unfolding and assuming their positions at the top of the truck. Up ahead, Gavin could see Markus standing in the middle of the crowd of protestors, motioning for the others to duck behind.

The jets started, water coming out in thick streams. He could hear the panicked yells in the distance.

“I’m in,” 9-0-0 said. It cut across the haze behind Gavin’s eyes.

And just like that, the water cannon stopped. The water pressure weakened until there was nothing left but pathetic drops of water. Gavin breathed out, deep. He didn’t know he was holding his breath.

“V? V. You have to get out of here,” 9-0-0 said, “before they catch you. I erased any trace of your activity today from the database.”

Right. As quietly as he came, Gavin left, making sure to not leave out any physical trace of him behind. He didn’t dare look back, not until he could get back to the thick crowd of onlookers. He realized his heart was pounding so hard, and he was slowly starting to get dizzy.

“What did you do there?” Gavin asked.

“I have remote access to the water cannon now. I can cancel and disable whatever execution or action they have set. I am unsure how long it will take until they will notice my presence but at least I could give the protestors enough time to disperse themselves.”

Was that enough? A significant chunk of police left their positions to check back at the water cannon, trying to figure out why it stopped working. 9-0-0 was right; the sabotage was working perfectly. At the farthest corner of the barricade, away from the uniformed mass, Gavin could see the protestors making progress in opening a path for them to escape.

Then, one by one, the police vehicles’ doors closed by themselves. More confusion erupted and he could see the officers having trouble opening the doors from the outside.

“Nine, was that you too?”

“Yes.”

“How the fuck?”

“After infiltrating the system, I could now access all the vehicles present here that are also connected. I locked them all and disabled the unlocking mechanism. The only way for them to get in is to break the windows.”

“You fucked them all up? Holy shit.”

“V, it’s best we leave before they could trace us,” 9-0-0 said. There was a slight urgency in its voice.

“You can be traced?” Gavin asked in disbelief.

“I have encrypted myself well-enough, but I would rather not take any chances. We have adequately aided the protestors. Best course of action now is to leave. Once they have access to their vehicles, they could start tracing us.”

While he wanted to stay a bit more to see for himself that the protestors left unharmed, Gavin thought it was finally time to heed one of 9-0-0’s suggestions. He walked to the opposite side of the new barricade opening, knowing the police would eventually be headed in that general direction to try and catch a few protesters.

A several blocks away from the Plaza and Gavin realized his ears were ringing so loud and his hands were shaking so bad. It was the comedown after an intense adrenaline rush. He wanted to collapse into himself. But no, he shouldn’t break down in the middle of the street. He turned to the nearest alley, walking deeper until there was only half-light and the sky overhead was a narrow line of soft blue. This was good.

“A smart decision, V,” 9-0-0 said. For some reason, its voice was different in the quiet and in the darkness. It was clearer, almost closer. “Navigating through the alleyways is the safest option we can take right now, though I am still keeping watch to make sure we are not being followed.”

“You don’t suppose the Eagles were there too?” he asked.

“I am certain a few members were present, but it is highly unlikely they will mobilize and it will be impossible to discern from the people there. Their attacks were usually well planned out and away from heavy civilian collateral damage,” 9-0-0 said.

“Don't all progressive groups have ties to the EE at one point or another?”

“Not necessarily. Some members express their support, but there is no tangible proof of their respective organizations being in cohorts with the EE.”

“Well, that’s not helpful.”

“Contrary to popular belief, infiltrating one of the longest-running international underground anarchist groups is actually not a walk in the park, V.”

"Did you just use an idiom on me?  _ And _ sarcasm?”

"Yes. Is it illegal?"

Gavin was too caught off guard to try and hide his laugh, surprised by the genuine reaction it pulled out of him. He was really tired, huh, for him to fall for that. "Okay, you got me."

Was that a chuckle from 9-0-0? It was almost unmistakable. The sound vibrated deep, and low, passing smoothly through Gavin’s ears, amusement palpable in its wake.

“I am glad, V,” 9-0-0 said. Funny, now it sounded like it was relieved. Did it know how to feel relieved?

“You did good out there, nine-oh-oh,” Gavin said. It was genuine. “That was probably just a trial run for you, a tutorial session, if you will. Didn't even break a sweat."

"You have done well too, V," 9-0-0 said. "I must commend you for your quick thinking in coming up with the ruse. I am certain it went through the right audience. The Eagles never miss anything. They will think you are on their side."

What would 9-0-0's lights look right now? An empty can of spray paint tumbled away, rudely disturbed by Gavin's heavy strides. The smell and the trash seemed so far away from him, his mind still stuck in the middle of the plaza, the makeshift stand amid the chaos and the slow approach of the water cannon.

_ They will think you are on their side. _

There was something gnawing inside Gavin, one he couldn't shake. It's the same one he felt when he saw the water cannon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is doing okay, apologies for the very long delay ;w;
> 
> [Chroma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromaberrant) is honestly godsend for helping me out ;w;
> 
> I hope you all enjoy and stay safe!!!

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a mashup of Judas Priest's Electric Eye and The Alan Parsons Project's Eye in the Sky.


End file.
